Till the End of Time
by lepetitmonde
Summary: Steve has his first birthday in the 21st century; Tony remembers.


For Steve's first birthday since he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D., he didn't expect much; after all, most of the people he had met in this century were acquaintances or new, tentative friends. So, on the morning of what would have been his 27th birthday, when he noticed a small package on the doorstep of his apartment, he furrowed his brow, forgetting for a moment that it was even his birthday. He lifted the little package, a little white box with a small note attached.

In the weeks preceding Steve's birthday (which also happened to be the 4th of July), Tony found himself hunting for the most rudimentary, easiest piece of technology he could find in order to introduce Steve into the 21st century. After browsing the Internet for something that straddled the line between current and simple to operate, Tony settled on cherry red iPod. During the middle of the night in his workshop, the moonlight pouring through his newly repaired windows, Tony felt a strange swell of excitement as he clicked to purchase the device. It was child's play, really; he had seen and created some of the most revolutionary technology in the world, and yet somehow, that little mp3 player gave him a rush. That night, for the first time in weeks, Tony decided to call it a night in his workshop and disappeared off to bed, the smile only disappearing from his face when he surrendered to sleep.

When the day finally arrived, Tony, who was not inclined towards appearing too soppy on special occasions, left the unwrapped package with a terse note affixed to the top. Steve, having just returned from a long run, almost stumbled over the little white box. Curiously, he picked it up, frowning and actively trying to work out what he had just been gifted. The little silver apple only intensified his confusion. He opened the small folded note, which had been written on a piece of folded printer paper. Inside, Steve saw Tony's barely-legible handwriting. "Happy 600th birthday and many happy returns. Come by to set this up. –Tony"

Though he would never admit to it, Tony badly wanted for Steve to appear immediately after he had noticed the gift. He couldn't get it off his mind all day long, and he found himself listless, perhaps borderline depressed, as he moved from couch to chair to floor in indolent anticipation.

After showering, Steve allowed himself an unhurried morning, seated alone in his apartment with coffee and the morning newspaper. He thought to himself that he should be feeling more depressed, seeing as how it was his first birthday separated from his previous life, but instead he felt content as he turned the pages of the paper, more enjoying the feeling than actually absorbing any information. His eyes occasionally darted to the mysterious white box that he had placed on the counter. He didn't dare open it, worried that whatever inside would break at his inexperienced touch. This time, he had actually cracked a smile at the age joke. But just the fact that Tony Stark—the last man on the face of the planet he expected to have any attachment to—the man who reputedly lacked a heart—had gone out of his way to remember his _birthday_, was so wonderfully unthinkable that Steve couldn't help but feel at home. So, finally, after he really had nothing else to do, he took his gift and set off, a slight spring in his step.

Tony had now been reduced to lying on the floor, his legs resting on a sofa, but his upper body completely obscured by a coffee table. He had deliberately rejected plans for the fourth of July with Steve in mind. Just as he had reached a low point in his sulking, he stiffened as J.A.R.V.I.S. announced that Steve Rogers was visiting. Tony sat up, bumped his forehead on the bottom of the coffee table, and cursed loudly enough for Steve to hear him just as he was outside the door. Tony clambered to his feet and ended up appearing bizarrely alert when Steve set eyes upon him.

"Stark?" he asked, noticing a darkening red spot on the other man's forehead. Tony raised his eyebrows. In his experience, it was better to just ignore things when he didn't want to discuss them.

"Looks like you found your iPod," Tony said, eagerly awaiting any gaffes Steve would surely make due to his technological naïveté.

"I… what?" Steve glanced down at the box in his hand. Tony took shameless pleasure in seeing Steve fumble, and he it showed on his face. Steve clenched his jaw.

"Help?" Steve asked. Tony could tell he genuinely wanted to learn about his gift. Wordlessly, he held out a hand and Steve handed him the device.

"Thanks, by the way," Steve said quietly as Tony led him to one of the many computers of his workshop. "I'm sure it'll be great when I figure out what it is."

Tony smiled to himself as he deftly tossed the plastic wrapping aside, opened the white box and emptied it rather carelessly. Steve watched wordlessly as Tony plugged the small device into the computer. He recognized the small rectangles from ads he had seen, but had no indication of what it could do. As Tony explained how to use it with the standard-issue S.H.I.E.L.D. laptop he had been given, Steve was tuning out. Tony had been so kind to him, so uncharacteristically considerate, that he couldn't help but wonder what had happened. True, they had gotten off on the wrong foot, but since then, since Steve had admitted to himself that he was absolutely wrong about Tony Stark, their relationship had improved drastically. Maybe, Steve thought, smiling absent-mindedly, this wasn't uncharacteristic of Tony Stark at all. Maybe this was exactly the kind of man he was, and despite his mask of cool, impassive arrogance, he actually cared about people—about Steve. It would not be the first time Steve had read him wrong.

"What do you wanna name it?" Tony asked, as Steve snapped back to the present situation. He raised his eyebrows.

"What… that?" He indicated the little red item, whose screen had recently lit up. It reminded Steve conclusively of Tony's suit. Tony rolled his eyes.

"OK, Steve's iPod it is." He typed and clicked for a few more moments.

"You're probably going to have to tell me what it is before you give it to me," the blonde muttered, now making a concerted effort to understand it. He squinted at the computer screen.

"Just… wait," Tony replied. Steve watched as he clicked on a bar on the side, which had somehow been entitled "Cap." Among the other bars were "Sex," "Late Night," and "Work." Now Steve was really lost.

"These," Tony explained, "are called playlists. They're filled with music. You can make as many as you want. This one is just to start you off." He began importing all the songs from his "Cap" playlist. Some sort of understanding must have dawned on Steve, as his frustrated frown disappeared and he was smiling hugely.

"It's for music," he said, sounding much more like a question than a statement.

"Like a tiny jukebox," Tony mused, unplugging "Steve's iPod" from his laptop. Steve looked nothing short of incredulous.

"_Oh," _he breathed when he realized the function of the cords in the bottom of the box. They had used similar communication devices that fit right in the ear for S.H.I.E.L.D., and Steve had long since recovered from the amazement of that sort of technology. Tony popped the cord right into the iPod and handed it to Steve, smiling in a way that most people might have taken as condescending. But Steve knew better, and he thanked him with a tentative grin.

"Turn it on," Tony interjected after a moment of silence.

"Oh, right!" Steve laughed, fumbling with his gift. Tony showed him how to click it on from the top, and he placed the headphones in his ears one at a time. After pressing play, Steve jolted; he did not expect the clarity and volume of the music. In fact, he was sure he had never heard anything quite so intense in his entire life. As Tony busied himself with something in the opposite side of the workshop, Steve stood erect and frozen.

Earlier that week, while Tony pondered the likelihood of Steve actually advancing to the level of acquiring his own music, he had figured that he should probably at least give him something he'd like, because something told him Steve would not appreciate his Black Sabbath very much. It had been his first instinct to add the more palatable songs from the past decade or so in order to update Steve, which he did include in his playlist. He realized the probability for homesickness, too, so he added several selections from his grandfather's era; mostly top-chart songs, as he wasn't at all familiar with the music of such a bygone era.

So, when Steve heard Perry Como's crystal-clear voice for the first time in more than sixty years, he was so stunned, so beyond belief, that he had no words for Tony. He wasn't even capable of coherent thoughts. He watched Tony, padding around his workshop mundanely, to the sound of something he never thought he'd hear again. He couldn't help the fact that tears pooled in his eyes. After realizing that Steve was silent and still, Tony glanced up.

"Cool?" he asked nonchalantly, not noticing the tears in Steve's eyes.

"Till the End of Time?" Steve asked, his voice betraying his extreme emotion. He was holding the little iPod in his palm gently, and Tony's heart sank. He realized that it could have been a bad idea—Steve may have been trying to forget.

"Yeah, well, you can delete things, too…" he murmured, approaching Steve with the mind to reclaim his gift.

"Tony, it's _Como!"_ he said, his heart racing. His eyes were full of tears, but he hadn't been happier in a longer time than he could remember. The shorter man raised his eyebrows.

"So… good then?"

Wordlessly, to the sound of a very bygone era, Steve put his arms around his friend tightly.

"_Thank you," _Steve mumbled into Tony's shirt, as he felt long-overdue tears escape.


End file.
